Like Father, Like Son
by Burn2Shine
Summary: Gandlaf, Elrond, and his family must band together to help a friend when a terrible secret is revealed in Mirkwood.
1. A Tree Grows in Rivendell

A/N: this is my first ff story- it's actually out under another name (layla146) but either my computer or ff.net is being stupid, and I can no longer log in under it. So here we are again, republished with some changes, and a new chapter (#8 for those keeping track) along for the ride. Let's just hope I don't have to do this every time I want to add a chapter, hmm? Anyway, on with the show…

Oh yeah- Disclaimer: you've read this kind of thing before, so do I really need to say who owns what and who and when? I didn't think so. (and by the by- the name Radames comes from the musical Aida, in case there's some copyright law there…)

  
  


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CHAPTER 1: A TREE GROWS IN RIVENDELL

  
            The first thing Aragorn heard when he awoke was laughter. A lot of it. Wondering who was in his bedroom and what they were laughing at, he turned his head from side to side. Instead of lying in a comfortable bed, he found he was on his back… on the ground… in the forest. The laughter was coming from his brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. He sat up, still clueless, when the memories came back to him. He glared at the tree in front of him, and then back at the twins.  
  
            "I fell, didn't I?" he growled moodily. The twins were laughing too hard to reply. Aragorn turned to look behind him for an answer. "Arwen?"  
  
            She stepped out of the shade, doing her best to keep a straight face. "It appears the tree was a formidable foe, Estel." Which sent the twins into more gales of laughter. Aragorn was about to reply when the sounds of hoof beats filled the clearing. An Elf entered on horseback, obviously having traveled nonstop for several days.  
  
            "I must deliver a message to Lord Elrond," the Elf gasped out. The twins quickly jumped onto their own horses and led the messenger to their father's house. Aragorn turned to Arwen, curious, but went still at the tense look on her face.  
  
            "What is it?" he asked, suddenly worried.  
  
            "That messenger was from Mirkwood," she met his dark eyes with her own, mirroring his nervous feeling. "From the Royal House."  
  
            It dawned on him; Arwen and the twins were close friends with the princes of Mirkwood, especially the younger of the two. Aragorn himself was also friends with Legolas, but only knew the older prince, Radames, by reputation. Radames had been sent out on a quest by his father before Aragorn had even been born, and had yet to return. Still, he knew the brothers to be kind and true Elves, and he knew his own brothers and Arwen loved them dearly. He grabbed Arwen's hand and the two of them rushed back to Elrond's house.  
  
            There they met Elladan and Elrohir, and waited with the twins outside their father's chambers for any sort of news. Once the messenger had been sent away for food and rest, Elrond came to his children, both true and fostered. He smiled at them.  
  
            "Legolas is fine," he assured them. He felt the tenseness leave the air. "It was he who sent the message. It seems his father has been feeling a bit… ill, as of late, and the Prince wishes for my council and help."  
  
            They all accepted the explanation. King Thranduil was frequently "ill" or, more accurately, ill-tempered and on occasion it was required of Elrond to tranquilize- sometimes literally- the king in person. Thranduil's temper was infamous throughout Middle Earth. No one new that better than Elrond and the king's son.  
  
            Elrond decided to set out for Mirkwood immediately, and after much pleading and bribery, allowed the four to accompany him. _This,_ he though as they left the boundaries of Rivendell, _is bound to be quite an interesting visit._

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            It was Legolas who met them at the gates in Mirkwood. After a cheery welcome to his friends and Lord Elrond, he beckoned them into his home and led them down a series of hallways.  
  
            "How is your father, Legolas?" Elrohir asked. Something in Legolas' eyes flashed quickly, but Elrond was the only one to notice.  
  
            "He is… as he always his," the Prince replied.  
  
            "Any word from your brother?" Elrohir's twin continued.  
  
            Legolas shook his head. "No, we have had no word of Radames since he left Galadriel's home. He said he was headed towards…" he hesitated. "…Rohan, I think he said. Though I do not understand why he would travel there." Legolas smiled slightly, almost sad, but with a quick shake of his head, he was himself again. It was then that Elladan noticed the bruise on his cheekbone.  
  
            "Might I suggest to whoever gave you this bruise that the shading is a bit too dark to go with the color of your eyes?" he teased.  
  
            Legolas gave him a good-natured glare. "I would gladly let you talk to the Warg who did this, but I already killed it. You'll have to find someone else to discuss color schemes with, Lady Elladan."  
  
            "Have you had much trouble with Wargs, then?" Elrond asked as the others laughed.  
  
            "We did, briefly, several days ago. But we handled it quickly enough," he answered, stopping in front of their rooms. "I'm afraid I have some business to attend to, but here are your rooms and you are free to go about the grounds as you please. I'll see you at the evening meal."  
  
            "And Thranduil?" Elrond asked.  
  
            Legolas hesitated again. "I'm sure you can attend to him after evening meal, or tomorrow at the latest."  
  
            "Legolas," Elrond said sternly. "Does even know we are here?"  
  
            The Prince glanced down at his feet. "By now, I'm sure he does. But if you're asking if I told him I had sent you a message, the answer is no."  
  
            "Is that wise?" Elrohir asked gently.  
  
            Legolas gave his sad smile again. "There is no other way." With a courteous nod, he disappeared down another hallway. The group from Rivendell stared after him.  
  
            "What do you make of that?" Elladan said.  
  
            Elrohir shrugged. "You know Legolas. He's probably acting this way on purpose to mess with us. Then again, he can be as moody as Estel sometimes."  
  
            The twins dashed into their rooms, laughing as Aragorn chased them. Elrond nodded to his daughter before entering his own chambers. After Arwen was settled into her room, she left the others in search of Legolas. She knew her brothers and Aragorn would look for their friends among the Mirkwood Elves, and her father would most likely stay and rest in his room. However she wanted to know what was bothering Legolas, for unlike her brothers, she sensed that this was not something to joke lightly about.  
  
            She was passing by the King's private library when she heard angry voices inside, one of which she recognized as belonging to Legolas. She glanced around and seated herself on a bench a comfortable distance away from the library, one that still allowed her to hear what was going on. This way it would not appear that she was eavesdropping, _even though I am, she chided herself silently.  
  
            The voices broke back through her thoughts as she heard them switch to Meladil Rhyme. From her studies, she knew that Meladil Rhyme was used only by the royalty of Mirkwood when a topic of discussion was of the utmost important or private. Elrond had a book of Meladil in his own library, so Arwen was familiar enough with it to understand what was being said. She also found that if she positioned herself just so, she could see through the slightly open door into the room. She watched and listened as Thranduil spoke to his son.  
  
  
                                                                       _"Don't come on so cocksure boy.  
                                                                          You can't escape your genes.  
                                                                      There's no point in feeling purer, boy,  
                                                                          Your background intervenes."_  
  
  
            The King strode forward and grabbed Legolas' arm, hard enough to bruise. Arwen winced at the tightness of the grip, but Legolas barely flinched. Thranduil continued, his words sounding harsh and angry.  
  
  
                                                                      _"Now listen good and listen straight-  
                                                                        You're not the master of your fate.  
                                                                          To this you must be reconciled.  
                                                                       You'll always be your father's child.__

_                                                                      At times acclaimed, at times reviled,  
                                                                   You'll wind up doing just as I have done.  
                                                                               Like Father, like son."_  
  
  
            To the surprise of Arwen, and more obviously to the surprise of Thranduil, Legolas roughly shoved his father's hand away and took a step closer. He too began to speak in tongue.  
  
  
  
                                                                            _"Don't assume your vices  
                                                                            Get handed down the line,  
                                                                         That a parent's blood suffices  
                                                                         To condemn the child's design.  
                                                                          I've done wrong, I can't deny,  
                                                                             But atleast I know that I  
                                                                      Shouldn't blame that on my stock.  
                                                                    Well, this may come as quite a shock  
                                                                         But I'm no chip off any block.  
                                                                 I wouldn't wish those words on any one.  
                                                                               Like father, like Son."  
_  
  
            Legolas turned to leave, but Thranduil stepped in front of him and nearly dragged him back into the room.  
  
  
                                                                     _"Son you're nervous, take my hand.  
                                                                           All is settled, all is planned.  
                                                                  You've got the world at your command.  
                                                                          I don't think you understand."_  
  
  
            Legolas shook his head in disgust.  
  
  
_                                                                               "I appreciate too well  
                                                                        The squalor at which you excel.  
                                                                              It isn't very hard to tell-  
                                                                             Evil's a distinctive smell."_  
  
  
            There was a sudden silence, except for Legolas' harsh breathing. Arwen waited a few moments before she fled back to her room. She needed to tell her father what had just happened. Arwen thought that she had witnessed the end of the conversation, but she was wrong. They were just getting started.  
  
            Legolas stood, almost calmly, as he waited for a response from his father. He knew his words, however true, had crossed a line and he would probably pay for them. 

            He was right.  
  
            With an almost silent roar, Thranduil came at his son, shoving him violently up against the library's door, slamming it shut at the impact. Legolas felt his head snap back and connect sharply with the solid mass behind him. But he did not cry out. It had taken him many beatings to learn, but he had taught himself not to make a sound. He would not give his father the satisfaction, or allow others to discover what was going on.  
  
            Thranduil hissed at him, "So you decide to bring Elrond again? To save me? Or just to save yourself?"  
  
            Legolas tried to clear his aching head. "You are not well," he stated firmly but softly. He then felt a sharp pain in his side and abdomen. He wondered oddly if it had been a kick or a punch this time, wondered if he had torn his tunic, and if he had, how he would mend it before anyone saw. Another pain across his eyes as Thranduil backhanded him brought him back to reality.  
  
            "And who do you think you are to decide that I am not well? You are overstepping your bounds, Princeling," he snarled. "Would you like to join your brother?"  
  
            At the mention of Radames, Legolas' eyes snapped open. In all these years, it had been an unspoken agreement between father and son, the only bond the two shared, not to talk about the other Mirkwood Prince. Now, hearing the name of his missing brother, Legolas could take no more. He tried to struggle out of his father's grasp. He wanted to run away, run to Radames, run to Elrond, anything but be here. But he was now so weak that the only thing keeping him standing was his father's bruising grip on his shoulders.  
  
            "Ah, you are defying me now? Do I have to teach you another lesson in manners?" Thranduil released from the wall and Legolas sank to his knees. He looked on in resignation as his father reached into one of the pockets in his robes. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come.

END OF CHAPTER 1

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yeah, that's me and my pitiful endings. Don't worry, you'll get used to them (hopefully). And another copyright suit prevention- the Meladil Rhyme is actually "Like Father, Like Son" by Tim Rice and Elton John.

And on a side note- i'm actually not a believer of the evil thranduil fics, i just thought it would be interesting to try and write one because it would be easily provided drama for a first time writer. Seriously, i don't usually write stories, i'm more of a poetry person. If you want to read the fics that I like of Thranduil, check out fics sheraiah like "Of a Father and Son," or anything by adromir (my favorite ff.net author)

Anyway, thanks for reading and for reviewing if you do. See ya in Chapter 2!

Namaarie,

Nell


	2. A Burden Slightly Lifted

DISCLAIMER: same as before, yadda yadda yadda- the character of Mek is mine, i think. 

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CHAPTER 2: A BURDEN SLIGHTLY LIFTED

            Aragorn stopped on his way back to his room to admire the view from a balcony. Thinking back on that day earlier in Rivendell, he ruefully thanked the Valar that the trees in his home did not grow as tall as the ones here in Mirkwood. He stood there, drinking in the sight and sounds when he suddenly heard a familiar, scratchy voice behind him. "Hello, Aragorn."  
  
            He turned, smiling. "Gandalf! I did not know you were in Mirkwood!"  
  
            The wizard smiled in turn and settled himself next to Aragorn, looking up at the starry night sky. He finally said, "I did not think I would be here either, but there are some matters in Mirkwood I find too pressing to ignore."  
  
            "Thranduil?" Aragorn guessed. Like Arwen, he too had sensed that something was not right with Legolas' behavior. Gandalf merely nodded, but offered up no more information. Then another voice called out from behind them.  
  
            "Mithrandir?" Legolas asked. They both turned to see the Prince, or rather the outline of the Prince, barely visible in the shadows of a tree.  
  
            "Yes, young friend. I decided to drop in for a visit. I trust my timing is acceptable?" he smiled at the Elf-shadow before him, but the smile did not reach his eyes. In fact, Aragorn almost thought that there was a sadness in Gandalf's eyes.  
  
            Aragorn saw the Elf's head nod. "Perfect timing, in fact. I was just coming to tell Estel that the evening meal is ready." Aragorn nodded his thanks and began walking towards the dining hall when he noticed that Gandalf had yet to move.  
  
            "Legolas, will you be joining us for said meal?" the wizard asked softly. Aragorn heard a sigh just as soft from the shadows.  
  
            "I may be a little late, I am not feeling entirely well," came the reply.  
  
            "Then you know I shall not eat in the same room as that-"  
  
            "Mithrandir," Legolas' voice sounded strained, and Aragorn sensed they had had this argument before. He moved closer to Gandalf and watched Legolas, who was still concealed in darkness. Legolas continued, "You know you cannot call Thran- the King those names."  
  
            "I know no such thing," Gandalf said. His face finally turned to match the emotion in his eyes, sadness. "What do you call a King who hits his own son?" With that the pillar of Gandalf's staff shone brightly, casting away the shadows that Legolas had hidden in.  
  
            Aragorn managed to suppress a gasp, but his eyes widened in shock as he took in the appearance of his friend. Legolas has a much darker and larger bruise on his cheekbone than before, and his eye seemed slightly swollen. His lip was also cut and bleeding. His shirt and tunic were ripped in several places, showing cuts and bruises where skin should have been. He was holding on slightly to the tree beside him for support, as if he were too weak to stand on his own.  
  
            "Legolas," Aragorn said softly. Legolas flinched; he had thought Aragorn had left. He looked down, obviously ashamed of himself.  
  
            "It is-" he was about to say it was nothing, but he doubted they would believe him. "He is just testing me."  
  
            "He's _hurting you, Legolas," came another voice. Elladan and Elrohir appeared with Mekahb, Legolas' best friend in Mirkwood, and one of the few who knew the truth about the King.  
  
            "Mek," Legolas began.  
  
            Mekahb shook his head. "No. This had been going on for far too long."  
  
            "Indeed it has," Elrond and Arwen also stepped onto the balcony.  
  
            Legolas groaned inwardly. His secret was unraveling too fast for his liking. He did not like showing his weakness in front of so many, especially since he loved and respected those in front of him. He sat down on a bench and put his face in his hands, wincing at the pressure applied to his bruises.  
  
            Mekahb was next to him in an instant, placing a hand on one shoulder, and then hastily removing it when he felt Legolas shudder at the touch. Elrond also noticed this, and something clicked in his mind. The twins used to tease Legolas for being too jumpy, for flinching at sudden movements near him. But everyone, including Elrond himself, had always just dismissed it as part of the Prince's nature, a Wood Elf raised under the threat of shadow. But the truth was far more grave, almost too much to comprehend. He shook his head sadly and watched as this same realization came over the faces of his sons. He wondered if they felt as guilty as he did.  
  
            The silence dragged on for several minutes. In that time Legolas sat, still shaking, his head still in his hands. Just when he thought he would scream from the tension in the air, he felt a new presence beside him. Arwen. She sat down on the bench, placing one calming hand on his arm and running the other hand over his head and through his hair, clearing out tangles she knew had come when he had been beaten. "Legolas," she whispered into his ear. He barely acknowledged her. The others stood around them, wanting to help but not sure how. Arwen brushed some strands of hair off of his face but still could not get him to look at her. She kept her cool hand next to his cheek, which felt burning and hot under her skin. "Legolas," she repeated. "We must do something about this. It cannot be allowed to go on anymore." She then thought of the bruise he had supposedly gotten from the Warg. How could someone do this? As if echoing her thoughts, Legolas shuddered again.  
  
            "Legolas," Gandalf's voice was gentle, but firm enough for the Prince to finally raise his head. "You must tell us. Everything."  
  
            Legolas sucked in a shaky breath, and after an encouraging nod from Mek, began to explain. "I couldn't tell you the exact date when it all began. It was a… gradual change. He wasn't always like this. So much happened to him, he suffered so greatly-"  
  
            "Legolas, there is no need for you to excuse his behavior," Gandalf quietly interrupted. Legolas looked as though he were about to argue, but the Wizard held up his hand. "Just continue, please. I want you to tell me what you can remember about this change."  
  
            Legolas nodded, the painful memories flooding back to him. He had been young, still too mischievous for his own good. Thranduil had caught him sneaking into the armory to look at the bows and blades. They might have fought, as most fathers and sons do, but something in the king had snapped. Without seeming to realize it, he had backhanded Legolas across the face. "He was so distraught; the first time he hit me, he didn't really mean it. His emotions were simply beyond his control. The look on his face… he honestly didn't mean any harm. But then it happened again some nights later. I think he felt it was a good release for those emotions." He took a pause, finally meeting the questioning eyes of Elrond and Gandalf. "It was after my mother died."  
  
            The reactions were as he suspected. His mother had died almost two thousand years ago; Legolas himself had only been about eight centuries old, the equivalent to a young child in human terms. Two thousand years?! Aragorn felt sick. How could someone go through so many years of torment- by his own father? It would be a burden Aragorn did not think he could ever bear.  
  
            "What about Radames?" Elladan asked suddenly, his voice shaking slightly. "Does he know?"  
  
            Legolas visibly paled at the mention of his brother. He opened his mouth to reply but found his voice had left him. He looked to Mek for help, who nodded and jumped in to answer for his Prince.  
  
            "Radames not only knew, he endured the same. When he found out that his father was doing this to Legolas on a fairly regular basis, he confronted the King, only to be punished for it as well. You see, the King discovered he could 'let out his emotions,'" he spat out the phrase, disgusted, "more efficiently when using a weapon. Which meant both Princes were hurt more often and more severely as the beatings went on. And yet everything was kept so carefully hidden. Most Elves here know nothing of the king's actions. I only found out because I am a healer. Radames came to me for supplies when Legolas had had several ribs broken. Even that seems so long ago." Legolas nodded in agreement, eyes closed, instantly regretting the motion as the cuts and bruises on his body began sinking in and make him feel dizzy and weak. Mek looked him over with a practiced and calculating eye, before turning to the rest of the group. "Legolas really should not be here. He needs to heal and rest. I'll take him back to his room, if that is all right," not expecting any argument, he stood up and helped Legolas into a standing position.  
  
            "Just a second, Mekahb," Elrond said. "You speak of Prince Radames in the past tense. What is it that you are not telling us?"  
  
            Mek stared at the Lord of Rivendell, and felt Legolas freeze in mid-stride as well. "What do you want to know?"  
  
            Elrond softened at the anxious and pained expressions on the Mirkwood Elves' faces. "Radames is known for his loyalty and compassion, especially when it concerns his younger brother. I would like to know why it is he would leave his brother alone with Thranduil and go off on some minor excursion to as far away as Rohan in such times. Where is Radames truly?"  
  
            Mek was about to reply when a quiet voice cut him off. "We don't know," Legolas answered. He let that sink in. "We don't know where he is. One day he is here and the next, he is gone. Mek and I have searched all over Mirkwood, as far and deep as we can without garnering too much suspicion from my father. I… I even searched the dungeons and our resting chamber for bodies. Radames has disappeared. My heart has told me many times that Thranduil is behind this and he knows where my brother is, but any time I get close to mentioning Radames to him, I-" he trailed off, gesturing to his slightly battered body.  
  
            "So you can do nothing?" Elrohir asked softly, still finding all this information hard to process.  
  
            "I have tried everything I physically can. I do not think I can afford to bring too much more attention on myself. Part of me thinks that my father still believes that I accept his explanation of Radames' absence. If he knew what I suspected," Legolas almost seemed to shudder, something his friends were not used to seeing from their brave and lively friend. _This treachery indeed runs deep_, Gandalf thought to himself.  
  
            The wizard's gaze turned to concerned as he saw the Prince falter slightly, now leaning more weight against Mek's support. "Legolas, I believe Mekahb is right. You do need some rest to recover from your injuries."  
  
            Legolas nodded slightly, before bowing his head. "I am sorry, Mithrandir. I wanted to tell you but I was… I was afraid. I do not blame you for thinking me weak. It is my fault that Radames-"  
  
            Gandalf's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Legolas!" his voice rang firmly and full of shock. "None of this, in any way, is your fault. You have been faced with a hardship that none, be it Elf, Man, or Dwarf should have to face. Many more might have crumbled when you have not." His voice grew quiet once again. "Your mother and Radames would be proud of you. This is not your fault." The others said nothing, but silently voiced their agreement.  
  
            His head still down, Legolas successfully hid the tears threatening to fall down his face. "Thank you," was all he said before allowing Mek, also throwing Gandalf a grateful look, to lead him back to his room.  
  
            There was a shocked and uncertain silence that held those that remained on the balcony. Surprisingly, it was Arwen that spoke first.  
  
            "Well then," she said, her eyes flashing with anger and purpose. "Would someone be so kind as to instruct me on the proper ways to kill an Elven king?"_

END OF CHAPTER 2

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again, thanks for reading! Another review would be mightily appreciated as well… not much else to say here… see ya in chapter 3!

Tenna' ento lye omenta,

Nell


	3. It Can Always Get Worse

Disclaimer? What disclaimer?

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CHAPTER 3: IT CAN ALWAYS GET WORSE

            Elrond sat down heavily on his bed, sighing, and laying his head in his hands. There had been a decision by all not to attend dinner with Thranduil, especially since Arwen was plotting his death. A nearby maid had agreed to relay the message that they were still tired from their journey and wished to take their evening meal alone. And Elrond was alone, but he was not eating. He could not bring himself to touch the plate of food that sat next to his bed. He had so many emotions running through him: disgust, anger, fear, sadness, and guilt. Guilt. Yes, it was guilt that he felt most of all.  
  
            He had known Legolas for all of the younger elf's life. Had, in fact, been there to see him born. And the Prince spent so much time in Rivendell, Elrond considered him an unofficial son. To think that for two thousand years this dark secret had been kept from him… no, he had just not seen it. If he had only realized what was going on earlier, something could have been done. And now that he does know, what can he do? If anything should happen to Legolas now, it would be his fault.  
  
            "I had a slight hunch I would find you brooding in here," a voice spoke up from the doorway. The Lord of Imladris, not feeling very lord-like at the moment, turned to Gandalf with a slight frown. Gandalf shut the door behind him and sank into a chair with a sigh not unlike the one Elrond had uttered a few moments ago. Elrond noticed this, but said nothing as the Wizard turned to him. "Must I assure you this is not your fault?"  
  
            "Two thousand years, Mithrandir. Two thousand years of… all this. How could I not have known?" he said quietly, rubbing his face in frustration.  
  
            "How could any of us? You forget, my dear Lord, that you were not alone in this discovery. Your children and even this very old wizard were in the dark about this," Gandalf shook his head. "I'll admit, I had my suspicions about something like this for awhile, but I had no idea it had gone this far." He directed his attention back to Elrond.  "As I said to Legolas earlier, this is in no way your fault, or any of ours, save the Mirkwood King," he nearly spat out the word. He continued on more quietly when he saw his words were beginning to have an effect on Elrond. "You are also not the only one to feel this way," he nodded his head towards the hallway. Elrond obediently turned, and saw that he was indicating the rooms of his children.  
  
            With a rueful nod to Gandalf, Elrond stood up and peeked into the twins' room. There sat Elladan on one bed, back against the wall, eyes staring at nothing. If not for the gentle drumming of his fingers against his leg, Elrond would have thought his oldest to be asleep. Across from Elladan, Arwen and Elrohir were sitting on the floor, their own backs leaning against Elrohir's bed. Arwen had her head resting against her brother's shoulder, while he kept one arm around her as if he thought to protect her from Thranduil as well. Last of all, Elrond watched Aragorn as he paced slightly in front of the window, fingering the hilt of his sword that was now strapped to his waist.  
  
            Elrond took a deep breath as he felt Gandalf come up behind, urging him on. He took the hint. "Well?" he asked, his voice disturbing the silence in the room and causing the four to jump. They turned and stared at him.  
  
            Finally, Elladan found his voice. "Well what?" He sat up a little straighter in confusion. His brothers and sister followed suit, Aragorn taking a place next to Elladan on the bed.  
  
            Elrond smiled painfully. "What would you have me do? We all agree that something must be done about Thranduil, but so far, I have come up with naught to fix this," he then paused. "Since we all feel somewhat responsible for this, I think it is best that we find the solution." The others looked down guiltily at their feelings having been found out. He turned to his other son. "Elrohir, would you go awaken Legolas and bring him and Mekahb here? They should be present when we discuss this." Elrohir nodded and quickly left the room.  
  
            Gandalf spoke up from the doorway as the young Elf disappeared. "Mirkwood has laws preventing this sort of actions from a king, but if Radames is not found or… proven to be dead, then we are still in a dilemma." At the looks of confusion in their eyes, he explained, "Mirkwood also has laws forbidding any but the Crown Prince to take the throne. Which means that until we find out what has happened to Radames, there is not much to be done in stopping Thranduil from remaining king. Oh, we can keep Legolas away from him and the pain he inflicts, but Thranduil will not be punished."  
  
            "But that's not fair!" Aragorn whispered almost hoarsely, trying to both volume and emotion out of his voice.  
  
            "No, it's not. But that is the laws of Mirkwood. They are not the same as Rivendell's. And as we are guests in this realm, it is not our right to confront this," Gandalf answered, almost as an apology.  
  
            "So there is nothing we can do? What about Legolas, what can he do?" Arwen asked from her position on the floor.  
  
            "He-" Elrond abruptly stopped speaking. "He should be back here with Elrohir by now. . ." Suddenly alarmed, then entire group rushed down to the Crown Prince's chambers. Elladan, the first to reach the door, stopped shaken at the entrance. The room was empty except for an unconscious Mekahb lying still on the floor.  
  
            "Mek!" Elladan cried, rushing forward and pulling the Mirkwood Elf into a sitting position. He slowly opened his eyes, groaning at the effort. It was the emotions in his eyes that caused the group concern. Elrond saw fear, sadness, and once again, that ubiquitous guilt.  
  
            "What happened?" Aragorn asked worriedly from a semi-lookout position at the door. The others helped Mekahb to sit on the bed, which they again noted as empty. "Where is Legolas?"  
  
            Mek shook his head as if to clear out unwanted thoughts. "Thranduil came. He must have known that we spoke! He knew he was found out and accused Legolas of treason and betraying Mirkwood to the rulers of Rivendell." He cast sorry eyes upon Elrond. The Lord motioned for him to continue. "He had some other elves with him, his own warriors I did not recognize. They. . . seized them and left. I tried to stop them, but one must have hit me from-"  
  
            "Seized 'them'? What do you mean by them?" Gandalf broke in urgently.  
  
            This time Mekahb looked away, fear evident in his voice. "Legolas and Elrohir. Thranduil took both of them!"  
  


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            The first thing Legolas saw when he awoke was darkness. Deep, impenetrable darkness. _Which is the worst kind_, he thought to himself. Slowly, his other sense came back to him. There was a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth, one Legolas recognized from experience; he knew the taste of blood all too well. Next he began to feel the sting and ache from dozens of cuts and bruises over his body, some he noted as fresh. The drops of blood running down the side of his face told him he also had a new gash on his forehead. 

It was then that he heard movement beside. Still not sure what was going on, and expecting an attack, he tensed and moved away. At least, he tried to, but any slight movement of his body caused sharp pain to reverberate through his head, which in turn caused him to groan quietly into the darkness.

A familiar hand touched his arm. "Legolas? Can you hear me?" a voice laced with fear and concern rang in his ears. He felt the hand move up to his face and wipe away some of the blood. "Legolas?"

" 'Rohir?" he said hoarsely. Why was his voice so weak? He heard a sigh of relief. Wait- how could Elrohir see through this darkness? He tried to ask, but all that came out was, ". . . Dark. . . ?"

There was a pause. Then, "Legolas, you have to open your eyes."

If he had been able to, he would have given Elrohir his best Elven glare. As it was, he _did_ manage to open his eyes and finally survey his surroundings. He was lying on his back in an empty stone hallway, one end ending abruptly and the other making a sharp turn. Torches were hung every so often, giving off a faint glow. Elrohir was kneeling next to him, wearing a half worried, half amused expression.

"Can you sit up?" he asked. Legolas nodded and was able to without much of Elrohir's help. The older Elf checked the cut on Legolas' head again. "Do you remember what happened?"

Legolas was about to shake his head no when the memories came flooding back to him…

* * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *          *          * 

\\\FLASHBACK///

Legolas sighed and dropped his head into his hands even as his body dropped onto his bed. Mek opened his mouth to say-

"Don't." Legolas cut him off.

Mek's eyes widened. "Don't what?"

"Don't say I shouldn't blame myself or that this isn't my fault. I understand that but right now that's how I feel and you telling me otherwise is not going to change anything," Legolas looked up, his eyes almost accusing and definitely defensive.

Finally, Mek shrugged. "I was just going to ask when we could go and eat some dinner."

There was a brief silence and then Legolas began to laugh. Mek joined in, proud of himself for being able to give the Prince at least a moment of happiness. It was then, of course, that Thranduil and twelve of his personal guards burst in. _Famous last words_, he thought to himself.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Elrohir was about to open the door to Legolas' room when he heard angry voices inside. Immediately rushing in, he found Mek in the corner of the room surrounded by Elves Elrohir had never seen before. Legolas was standing at the foot of his bed, facing off with Thranduil.

"Legolas!" Elrohir cried. Legolas turned towards him, and in that momentary distraction Thranduil backhanded him across the face. Elrohir was about to rush forward, but he was taken aback by this outward display of violence. Up until this point, Elrohir wasn't totally sure if he could believe all that he had learned. But now, as Legolas straightened back up with a new bruise forming under his eye, Elrohir knew that he now supported Arwen's suggestion totally. _I'd kill him with my bare hands if I could_, he said to himself. Unfortunately, several of Thranduil's guards got in his way. 

Legolas stared at his father quietly. Suddenly drawing on all his anger, his pain, and his fear of getting Mek and Elrohir involved in this mess, Legolas did something he had never done before.

He hit back.

At first the room was utterly still. Then Thranduil spit some blood out of his mouth and growled two short words: "Take them." It was as if the gates of Mordor had opened. The guards attacked with ferocity, pain but not murder on their minds. Legolas finally fell to his knees after taken the flat of a sword to the side of his face. Another blow brought him to the floor and just before he blacked out, he saw Elrohir fall beside him. 

////END OF FLASHBACK\\\\ 

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That brought Legolas back to the present. He studied Elrohir's face. There was a swirl of emotions in his eyes, but pain was not one of them. Elrohir shifted uncomfortably under the Prince's scrutiny. 

"I'm not hurt," he answered the silent question. "I've got a bump the size of a cave troll on the back of my head, but it doesn't hurt too bad and I don't have a concussion."

Legolas nodded, relieved, before looking around again. "Where's Mek?"

"They left him in your room. I don't know how hurt he is." Elrohir stood up, wiping his hands on the front of his tunic.

"All right," Legolas stood up as well. "Then where are we?"

Elrohir looked back at him, frustration finally beginning to show. "I was hoping _you'd_ know," he confided. "I was awake for the most part, but I've never seen this place before. They took us down close to your father's chambers and then we traveled down some flights of stairs-"

"We're still in the palace?!" Legolas turned his head a little too quickly. He closed his eyes and slowed his breath until the dizziness subsided. Then he stared back up at Elrohir incredulously. He had never seen this place before in all his life.

Elrohir nodded, uneasy from Legolas' reaction. "They took us down eight… no, nine flights of stairs. I counted. You have no idea where we are?"

"Elrohir," Legolas' eyes betrayed his seemingly calm voice. "I have only known there to be _seven_ flights of stairs."

* * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *          *          *

Elrond stormed down the palace hallway, the other hurrying to catch up with him. Mirkwood Elves turned to stare or hurried out of the way as the Lord of Imladris stalked past.

"Father, what are you planning to do?" Arwen asked, almost frightened as she caught up with Elrond.

Elrond never broke stride or concentration. "Find my son. And stop this so-called 'King' once and for all."

Aragorn sped up with Elladan right behind him. "But I thought you said that we couldn't-"

Elrond turned a corner abruptly, nearly causing the other to lose their balance. "That was before he intentionally harmed an Elf of another realm. _My_ realm." Aragorn almost shivered at the hardened tone in his voice. 

"Elrond, that may be true, but there are other things you haven't considered." Gandalf's voice had a soothing effect on all of them, Elrond included. The Elf Lord slowed his pace but did not stop. Gandalf continued. "If you barge in and anger Thranduil the wrong way, you are doing more harm to Legolas and Elrohir than anyone else. You must act wisely now."

Elrond let out a quiet sigh as he walked. When he spoke, his voice was calmer, "I know, Mithrandir."

They rounded the final corner to Thranduil's chambers. The King was not there, but one of his personal guards was. With no break in his stride, Elrond walked up to the guard and plowed him into the wall, forcing his arm against the guard's throat. A small dagger appeared as if out of nowhere and stopped right in between the guard's eyes. Gandalf seemed to sigh and shake his head, but kept still.

"Where are they?" Elrond asked menacingly.

* * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *          *          *

Elrohir pushed against the wall, knowing it was a useless struggle but hoping all the same. His energy finally spent, he slid into a seated position next to Legolas, panting slightly. "It's official," he said. Legolas raised an eyebrow. "The hidden trap door they used to put us in here cannot be found."

Legolas was able to keep a straight face. "Hence its name."

Elrohir would have glared, but his eternal optimism kicked in. "Then there must be some other way out." He nodded his head towards the end of the hallway. "Shall we?"

The two Elves stood up and began walking. After the first turn they came to another hallway with a fork in the pathway. "Left or right?" Legolas turned to his friend. Elrohir studied the two passageways before tentatively nodding towards the left. Legolas shrugged in response and they turned left. Soon after, however, the two came to a dead end. 

"What?!" Elrohir said aloud. He studied the wall while Legolas stood deep in thought. He suddenly looked up. A second later, Elrohir did as well. The same thought had just crossed both their minds.

"Does this look like a-"

"Don't say it Legolas," Elrohir groaned. They looked at each other.

"It's a maze," they said together.

* * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *          *          *

"My Lord Elrond, I don't-" the guard's breath was cut off as Elrond's arm tightened against his throat.

"Listen to me, ingrate. I don't care what your 'King' has told you to say or what he'll do to you otherwise. Right now, my son and your Prince, whom I also consider a son, are missing and I believe I am beyond logical reason at this point. If you don't tell me where they are, what do you think _I'll_ do to you?" all the while as he talked, Elrond's voice became lower and colder and the guard's face became paler. The dagger inched closer.

"Father. . ." Arwen said softly. Elrond turned and looked into her wide eyes. Out of the sight of the guard, he gave her a quick wink before turning back angrily.

"Well?" he asked.

* * * * * * * * * * * *          *          *          *          *

Elrohir led the way into the next left turn and nearly broke his nose when it became another dead end. "I think left turns are starting to become bad luck," he told Legolas, feeling his face to make sure everything was still there.

Legolas stared at him for a moment. "Elrohir, think back on what has happened this day. You think we're '_starting_' to have bad luck?"

This time Elrohir did glare. "What I can't understand," he said, deciding to change the subject, "is how your father built this thing without you or anyone else knowing."

Legolas shook his head. "Do you see how old these stones are?" he traced a finger across a brick in the wall. "I'm willing to bet this has been here much longer than my father, maybe even his father, has. Besides-"

The two elves stopped in mid-step before Legolas could finish his thought. They had just come to an open chamber, about the size of a large room, in the maze. There were two lone torches hanging from both sides, and the only way out was directly across from them. However, in between this hall and the two Elves was a large, lean, and thankfully sleeping Warg. Parts of bone and skeletons were littered around its huge form. 

"Have you ever seen a Warg that big?" Elrohir whispered to his friend, feeling the panic starting to well up in his stomach. Legolas turned to him, but the expression on his face answered him before any words came out.

"I've never seen _anything_ that big," the Prince answered just as softly before cursing under his breath. "Just another piece of my father's sick mind, I guess."

Elrohir was about to suggest they somehow creep by the sleeping beast when the torches on the wall suddenly and frighteningly blinked out. _As if this was planned_, the disturbed thought entered his mind. Out loud, still quietly, he gave a sigh of frustration. "Can this possibly get any worse?" he asked Legolas.

The feral growl in the darkness somewhere behind them was his answer… 

END OF CHAPTER 3

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Was that it? My first real cliff-hanger? I hope so. Oh- my friend was reading this chapter over my shoulder and asked why Arwen and the other Elves didn't call Elrond "Ada" or "Adar" or anything else. My explanation is (to anyone else who might have possibly had this question) that all of the dialogue and conversations in this story are spoken in Elvish, so it would be overly redundant and needless to use Elvish words. I might use them in the next chapter in an inscription or something, but for the record- anything spoken is in Elvish. That's all, folks! See ya in Chapter 4!

ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE: i'm adding this little note because I want some feedback on how I should end part of this story. I've got two different ending planned out, but I can't decide which one to use. so Oh Readers and Reviewers- would you rather Thranduil killed at the end or just banished or imprisoned or whatever. It's basically up to you- have some fun with your suggestions! Thanks so much!

Vanya Sulie,

Nell


	4. ThoughtSpeak

thanks for all the reviews and please keep reading! (unless i really do suck, then just pretend. . .)

Chapter 4: Thought-Speak

          Elrohir let instinct kick in, immediately diving to the right even as he felt Legolas move in the opposite direction. The Warg that had tried to attack them sailed past between them. Elrohir rolled as he landed, coming to a stop in a crouching stance. Breathing slightly heavier, he backed up quickly until he felt a wall behind him. He peered into the blackness, searching for anything, any sign, any movement in the darkness around him. It was so dark he could barely tell if his eyes were open or closed. He could hear the Warg that had jumped at them, growling and sniffing as it sought out its prey. _Wargs, he reminded himself. There were now two in this chamber with them._

          He took a deep breath and calmed himself, reaching out with his other senses in hopes of finding Legolas or the way out, preferably both. But the darkness that claimed his sight seemed to also put a blanket around everything else. The only sounds were the muted, rumbling footsteps of the giant wolf. _I have to get to Legolas_, he told himself. A thought, out of nowhere, popped into his mind. Elves can communicate without speech, but usually only with close kin. He himself had used the thought-speak with Elrond and his twin, but had never tried it with anyone else. _And now seems like the perfect time_, he decided, as the sniffs and growls of the Warg grew closer to him.

          He braced himself, and then reached out in his mind with as much strength as possible, concentrating on his friend. _'Legolas?'_  he called out silently. He waited. Anxiety began to grow in his stomach, the restriction of sight wearing on his nerves. The Warg came closer.

          Suddenly- _'Elrohir?__ I didn't know you could do this.'  A pause. _'I didn't know _I _could do this.'__

          Despite the situation, Elrohir smiled slightly. _'Now is not the time to celebrate, Prince of Mirkwood. Do you have any idea how to get out of this situation?... Unharmed?'_  The Warg was now within ten feet of him. He could smell the blood and grime on its foul breath.

          Elrohir could almost feel Legolas glare in his general direction. _'While I don't appreciate that insinuation, I don't see many options. The only exit is on the other side of this chamber. The way I see it, we have to sneak very quietly past these two large, hungry Wargs and hope we get lucky.'_

_          'And how many times does that happen?' _ Elrohir waited for Legolas' comeback. None came. He waited a second longer. _'Legolas?'  Silence. __'Legolas?!'_

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A/N: can we just take a moment and revel in how great of a cliffhanger ending that would be? If i just ended it right there? Just one moment, please. . .

. . .

okay. Sorry.

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          "Elrohir!" Legolas finally answered, this time out loud. Elrohir heard scuffling from where he assumed the opposite side of the chamber was. A shout from his friend and a loud growl confirmed his fear. The other Warg had found Legolas. Throwing caution to the wind, Elrohir stood up and tried to rush to his friend's aide. Tried being the operative word. As soon as he stood up fully, Elrohir was hit with an intense wave of dizziness and nausea. He nearly fell to the hard dusty floor, weakly grabbing at the wall behind him for support. Gasps for air on the other side of the room told him Legolas was feeling the same. _So this is why thought-speak is only supposed to take place between blood relatives. There are side-effects._

          Another growl, this one closer, shook him out of his thoughts. Another Warg had finally found its prey. Elrohir made it a few steps before tripping over something on the ground. He stumbled onto his knees, his hands finding what felt like a sharp club. He picked it up, gripping its smooth surface and feeling slightly better now that he had something to defend himself with. At that moment, he sensed the Warg leap at him. He sidestepped to the left, bringing the club down as the Warg sailed past him. It howled in anger and pain as it tried to turn back towards him.

          A loud, thunder-like crash sounded from the direction he knew Legolas was in.

          "Legolas?" he called out warily.

          A grunt was his reply. "Take care of yourself!"

          Elrohir wasn't reassured, but had to take his friend's advice as the Warg came back to attack him a second time. He felt it surge forward at him, managing to catch his arm. Gritting his teeth against the sudden pain, Elrohir raised his club and brought it down on the Warg's head with all the strength he had left. The Warg faltered, and Elrohir struck it again. This time the beast collapsed in front of him. The Elf hit it once more time, making sure it was dead. Shaking his head as another wave of dizziness swept through him, he turned to help his friend.

          He had made it a few more steps when he heard something large hit the ground in front of him. For a few seconds there was no movement in the chamber, no light, no sound except for the Elves' harried gasps for breath.

          "Legolas?" he asked again, his voice slightly strained.

          "I'm here," a voice just as weak replied. "Are you feeling this?" Elrohir heard his light footsteps come closer to him. He started to nod before remembering the darkness.

          "I feel it. I think it might be some effect from the thought-speak." He reached out, finally touching Legolas' shoulder. "Can you walk on your own?"

          He could almost feel Legolas grin mischievously into the darkness. "Can you?"

          Elrohir smiled in return. "Let's just shut up and help each other out of here." Legolas was about to reply when light suddenly filled the chamber. They both whirled around unsteadily, expecting another attack. Instead, it was just the two torches burning brightly, flames dancing as if to mock them.

          Legolas stared at them. "How did they-" then he shook his head, wincing at the movement. "I don't want to know."

          Elrohir gave a half-hearted chuckle. Realizing he still had the club in his hand, he looked down at it and suddenly shuddered. It was a bone. He let it fall to the floor with a hollow crack and turned away, searching to distract himself by studying the dead Warg that had attacked Legolas. "How did you kill it?"

          "I got the damned thing to run head first into the wall." Elrohir nodded- that was the bang he had heard. "It had a chain around its neck-" Legolas nodded his head at the beast's ragged and bloody throat. "I used that to strangle it."

          Elrohir next looked over his companion. Legolas looked okay for the most part. Only a couple of fresh bruises added to the old ones. He was paler and weaker than before, but that was probably due to the thought-speak. The only real wounds Elrohir saw were the large gashes and cuts on Legolas' hands. He looked up into the prince's face, only to see that Legolas had been giving him the same treatment.

          "You're bleeding," they informed each other at the same time. Elrohir started and looked down at his arm, having completely forgotten about the bite. 

          "The chains," Legolas explained as they tore off pieces of their tunics to wrap the wounds in. He wiggled his fingers, testing his hands for flexibility.

          Elrohir nodded. "I. . . used my arm as bait."

          Legolas grinned and opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. "Let's get out of here." They turned and headed out of the chamber, leaning against each other for support. As they were just outside the exit-way, Legolas suddenly reached out and smacked his friend on the back of the head.

          "Ow! What was that for?" Elrohir whipped his head around to look at Legolas. _Too fast, he reminded himself. __Way too fast._

          "Idiot," Legolas smiled. "If you could use thought-speak, why didn't you call for your father or tell him where we are?"

          "I. . ." It was a good question. "I don't work well under pressure, okay? And there was a slightly more pressing matter at hand!"

          They smiled at each other. "And of course, now neither of us are strong enough to try it now. . ."

          "You know, sometimes I really love our unbelievably wonderfully bad luck," Elrohir concluded. They eventually came to another fork in the hallway. The Rivendell Elf muttered something under his breath. "With all that happened back there, I almost forgot about this cursed maze. I really love your father too," he sighed.

          Legolas grew solemn. "I'm. . . I really am sorry you got dragged into this, my friend. You shouldn't be here," he said quietly. He was looking down at his feet, absentmindedly playing with the bandages on his hands.

          Elrohir stopped and forced his friend to look him in they eye. "You shouldn't be here either. This is not at all your fault, understand?"

          The prince sighed. "I know. It's just. . ."

          Elrohir nodded, echoing with a sigh of his own. "I know."

          "This whole thing proves to me what I'll have to do about him." Elrohir looked at him, a question in his eyes. Legolas blinked once and then met his gaze again, his own eyes a mixture of sadness and determination. "My father. I'll have to kill him."

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A/N: see, that wasn't too bad was it? (remember, we're pretending i don't suck.) Okay, about the thought-speak. I pretty much made up my own lore with that- i know that's not the real deal when it comes to elves and silent communication. But hey, it's my story so i get to make up the rules to fit it. (and i think i borrowed the word "thought-speak" from some Tamora Pierce books.) anyway, i've got a favor to ask you guys- is there are really good website or place where i could translate some stuff into Elvish? I might need it for the next chapter. Oh, and if you have any more creative ideas for the dead thranduil vs. living thranduil ending, i'm all ears! Thanks for reading!


	5. Nightmares

a/n: okay, in honor of Mr. Bloom's birthday (yes, I know it was a little while ago, but you're talking to a procrastinator here) and RoTK finally getting its recognition at the Golden Globes (how could you not tear up a bit during Peter Jackson's speech for "Best Director"- honestly?), I will write and hopefully post this new chapter. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and/or will review- i love and appreciate it! There won't be that many regular, consistent updates for this story, partly because i'm incredibly, horribly busy and partly because i don't know how much of a reader response i'm getting… but i do love responses, don't get me wrong! ; ) Oh, and while i'm sucking up (or trying to), i desperately need the web address of a good elvish translation site, please please please give suggestions? i might need it for this story and a new one I'm thinking of writing (more on that at the end of this chapter, if you stay awake that long. Hey, is this what rambling really sounds like? … i better go…

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CHAPTER 5: NIGHTMARES

            _"My father.__ I'll have to kill him."_

            Elrohir froze at Legolas' words. "Kill him?" Legolas didn't answer, his eyes sad, weary, and much older than they needed to be. "I'll admit, in these past couple of hours, I've felt like it myself, but actual Kinslaying? I don't-"

            "I don't want to," Legolas interrupted. "Above all things, I don't want to have another Kinslaying. But I… I don't see any other way to end this. Something has to be done, I see that now. If not for me, then for our people and for what used to be Greenwood the Great. For my mother and our family as it used to be. For my brother…" Legolas' voice grew soft. "Wherever he may be."

            He saw Elrohir's eyes darken at the mention of Radames. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood whom had yet to be found. _He could be anywhere from here to Mordor at this point, _Legolas thought angrily.

            He faltered slightly, stumbling from exhaustion yet again. Elrohir, himself being too weak to support him, nearly fell along with him. "Maybe we should rest for awhile here, you can catch your breath for a bit?" the Rivendell Elf suggested coyly.

            Legolas gave a lopsided smile, both sheepish and accusing. "And of course, you feel fine, do you not?"

            Playing along, Elrohir held his head higher, atleast as much as he could on a sore and tired neck. "I do not tire easily, Prince of Mirkwood."

            "Uh-huh…" Legolas gave Elrohir a quick poke in his ribs, causing the other Elf to almost immediately double over with a slight groan. Elrohir straightened back up to see Legolas grinning unabashedly now and Elrohir smiled back in spite of himself.

            "You're just lucky you have that smile to get you out of trouble, Greenleaf. Otherwise-"

            "Otherwise, we'd both fall on our faces trying to prove we were stronger than the other. I think resting is a good idea," he interjected. They both settled themselves down on the floor, leaning their backs against the dusty, brick walls of the maze. It was a minute, maybe less, when Legolas realized Elrohir was still looking at him. "What?" he asked without turning his head.

            Elrohir blushed slightly but did not drop his gaze. "I'm just… glad that you still smile, Legolas. You've been a friend to me and Elladan and Arwen for so long, and now Estel, and… and I need you to keep your smile and your spirit. For now and for the future. It's a light for all of us, you know. When this is all over-" he stressed the _when as opposed to _if_, "-You won't have to worry about not having a family… you'll always have one in Rivendell. Remember that, okay?"_

            Legolas felt his throat tighten, overwhelmed by Elrohir's words and the meaning behind them. "Ro…" he began quietly.

            "Save it, Las," he said, using their elfling nicknames. "You're stuck with us now, all right? I'm too tired at the moment to get all weepy."

            Legolas chuckled wearily. "Agreed." And with that, the two Elves closed their eyes- a sign of just how weak and tired they were- and fell into a light sleep.

            Little did they know of the nightmares that waited for one of them.

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            He was back in the armory again, all those years ago, a curious young elfling who had heard about the ancient weapons stored there from his older brother. His mother had died several months ago, an ill-fated spider attack, and while Legolas still mourned her grievously, the restraints of the "Royal Mourning Process" were starting to wear on his nerves. His father had not allowed him to run and play outside with his friends since his mother's funeral. He had not even seen most of his friends in the last five months, with the exception of Mekahb. Lord Elrond and his family had come and gone already, and Legolas had only been allowed to talk to the twins and Arwen for an hour, maybe less. What is a confined Elf to do? Legolas decided on sneaking in to see the giant bows and swords that had been used by warriors in his grandfather's time. 

He was just reaching up to touch a pair of ivory-handled knives when his father entered the chamber. Or, more accurately, _stormed_ into the chamber. Suddenly, Legolas felt very nervous. He had not had much contact with his father lately, not wanting to bother him as Thranduil had to deal with grieving for his wife and managing a kingdom. Anytime he did talk to his father, the conversations were short and often one-sided, until Legolas finally gave up talking to him at all and almost began avoiding him.

Now, seeing his father, he noted some disturbing changes in his demeanor and appearance. In the young Elf's eyes, it was almost as if a shadow had been cast around the king, his eyes dark and hooded. He had called out to Legolas sharply, immediately reprimanding the elf-child for sneaking away and playing with things that were not toys. It almost had sounded like the lectures Thranduil used to give his children when they acted up, before their mother had died. Legolas had thought that maybe his father was all right, maybe everything was back to normal. He had run towards the king, expecting a hug, an affectionate hand on the shoulder, something that would tell him everything was okay. 

Unfortunately, everything was not okay. His father had lightly pushed him away, scolding him again in a firm and detached voice. It had been void of any emotion, Legolas remembered. He had tried to hug his father; maybe _he _was the one who needed to be told everything was all right. But Thranduil had snapped, and without warning backhanded his son across his cheekbone. All of a sudden, it was as though time had stopped. Legolas sat on the floor at his father's feet, hand covering the rapidly-forming bruise, eyes wide. Thranduil was still, eyes just as wide looking back and forth between his stinging hand and his small son.

"Legolas…" he had whispered. The prince's eyes had filled with tears as he launched himself into his father's arms, both of them crying, crying from pain and grief and the times they knew were to come. His father had been so sorry.

_He had been so sorry. So sorry…_

Suddenly another memory surfaced in the dream, and another and another after them. Moments of his hidden past all came back to haunt him now. The time when Radames discovered what was going on, the first time Radames was beaten as well, the first and second and third and countless times his father began using objects, weapons at his disposal. When he had broken his first bone. When Mekahb found out. When Radames disappeared. His memory flashed to the library from this morning, when his father had pulled his favorite weapon out of a hidden pocket in his robes- a strong wooden rod, actually categorized as a club, with sharp knife-like points on either end. No matter where you were hit, it was guaranteed to draw blood or abrasions… or both.

            The memories came one after another, almost hitting him with force. Legolas struggled to rid himself of the nightmare, not realizing he was actually shaking and struggling as he slept. Elrohir slowly opened his eyes as the movement awoke him.

            "Legolas?" he murmured fuzzily, not really sure what was going on. The Prince didn't answer, turning slightly from side to side, unconsciously trying to find a way out of his dreams. Elrohir blinked, his brow furrowing in concern, and then realized. "Legolas," he said more firmly, grasping his friend by both shoulders. Legolas gave no answer, no recognition, still shaking under the mental assault.

            Elrohir shook him now, trying to wake him. He called his name again, this time more loudly. "It is but a dream, my friend. Please…" 

            Legolas' eyes snapped open. Suddenly Elrohir could see all the emotions and torment running through his mind, and he was reminded once again of how serious this situation really was. Then, just as abruptly, the mask slid back into place, and Legolas was once again looking behind guarded eyes. He shook his head, still trembling lightly. "It was no dream," he said hoarsely. "It was a nightmare, disguised in memories."

            Elrohir kept a hand on one of his shoulders. "I'm here if you need to talk about it." He knew better than to ask directly. To prove his point:

            Legolas smiled but shook his head. "I'm fine." He had said it so quickly, both of them knew it was an automatic response.

            Elrohir had to laugh. "Now that's the Legolas I know and love," he stood up, stretching his arms and legs. "I'm guessing you don't want to rest anymore, so shall we continue walking?" Legolas' relieved nod was his answer. The two continued on through the maze, arms still around each other's shoulders; though if it was for physical support or emotional, neither Elf could tell.

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            The two Elves had been walking for what seemed like a century, and coming from two immortal beings, that said a lot. "Well, to look on the bright side, we haven't run into any more obstacles along the way," Elrohir mentioned to his friend. Legolas stopped abruptly, nearly causing Elrohir to pitch forward onto his knees. The Rivendell Elf looked questioningly at Legolas, who was staring straight ahead, muscles tense. "What? What is it?" he asked nervously, his voice dropping to a whisper in case some danger was lurking nearby.

            Legolas' answer came back just as soft. "I'm just waiting for it- the awful thing that is now bound to happen thanks to you jinxing us." He reached up then and weakly slapped Elrohir in the back of the head again. "Haven't you learned by now that you can't say things like that without the situation getting worse?"

            Elrohir gave a glare that would have made his brothers, and possibly his father, proud. "Well, _now _we're definitely jinxed." He lightly smacked Legolas in return.

            The younger Elf's reply came out in another language, one Elrohir could not quickly decipher. "Valar preserve me, I had no idea you could speak like a Dwarf," he teased a second later. Legolas opened his mouth for a comeback, but was abruptly silenced by the sight that found them around the next corner.

            It was another chamber, nearly identical to the last one they had been in. Only instead of Wargs, there was a giant Mirkwood spider lying in the opposite corner. Scattered bones littered the floor between them and the beast. Legolas immediately tensed, ready to act, when Elrohir help up a hand.

            "Wait… I think it's already dead…" They both moved forward cautiously, eyes not leaving the spider. Elrohir was right; it was dead, the hilt of a sword visible through a wound to its heart. Together breathing a sigh of relief, they turned to survey the room around them.

            "It looks like these Elves killed the spider for us," Elrohir commented as they began searching the debris and bones. "Do you think any of them escaped?"

            "It's possible, but there's no telling what they met next. I don't think this is the last obstacle," Legolas answered grimly. He moved to a set of bones covered by a cloak. "These bones look old, though. Maybe-"

            Elrohir looked up when Legolas didn't finish. "Maybe what?" Legolas was standing next to a pile of weapons and bones, a cloak in one tight fist. His eyes were closed and he was breathing in short, painful gasps. "What is it?" He rushed over to his friend.

            Instead of answering he shoved the cloak into Elrohir's hands and moved back to the spider. The Rivendell Elf inspected the material. It was a standard Mirkwood cloak that most warriors wore, except this one had an emblem on the front, the symbol for the Royal House. It was like the one Legolas wore… He looked up to see his friend pulling the rusty sword out of the spider. "Legolas?" he asked, still a little confused.

            For a second he was silent. Then the sword slipped out of his shaking hands to crash on the floor. Legolas backed up, more terrified than Elrohir had ever seen him, until his back met the wall. He slid to the ground as Elrohir came over and picked up the sword. "It's his," he whispered softly. 

Elrohir looked over the sword, finally discovering what Legolas just had. An inscription just above the sword's hilt, though worn and rough, clearly read _Radames Thranduilion. Elrohir could feel is heart freeze with fear. He looked back to his friend, for once unable to do or say anything. "Legolas…"_

Legolas struggled to meet his eyes, tears streaming silently down his face. "I found my brother," his voice was pained, almost incredulous. "I found my brother… he's dead." With that he dropped his head into his hands and said no more.

END OF CHAPTER 8

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surprise, another feeble attempt at a dramatic cliff-like ending. Whether it worked or not is up to you, i guess. Again, i'm going to take this time to thank those who review, and then plead with anybody who reads this (precious few, i know) to **please help me find a website where i could translate some stuff into elvish- i need it desperately! I've got a few other story ideas in the works (a.k.a. in my head) that i would need translations. My favorite idea, which i will disclose right now, is a series of one-shot stories or vignettes or whatever based on Led Zeppelin songs. Sounds weird i know, but if you really look at their lyrics, there are a lot of Tolkien references. And since the members of the band have mentioned in the past that they are fans of the professor, i thought it would be a cool idea.**

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Elvish Translation website suggestions (I'm desperate, remember?) THEN LEAVE A REVIEW!

See ya'll in chapter 6!

p.s.- yay for Mr. Jackson and Co. for their 11 Oscar nominations- there will be hell to pay if we don't see a best director and best picture win- mark my words!


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